


-2 and Thunderstorms

by Somedrunkpirate



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 00:43:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11137866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somedrunkpirate/pseuds/Somedrunkpirate
Summary: Arthur is staying for at least a night. Maybe longer. There is a thunderstorm coming.





	-2 and Thunderstorms

**Author's Note:**

> Expanding my adventures in the Fluff and Angst genre!

It starts raining before Arthur gets here.

The sky breaks open when Eames is alone, waiting without waiting.

Without acknowledging he is waiting.

Arthur knocks twice. Eames opens the door quickly, wind escaping through the corridor, ruffling the paper on the livingroom table.

“Darling.”

Arthur is drenched to the bone, his suit sticking to his skin, his hair dripping and loose, but it doesn’t seem to bother him as he pushes Eames to the wall. Eames responds at once, because he can’t refuse Arthur. Not ever. It’s too late for that.

“Close the door, Mr Eames,” Arthur breathes against Eames’ lips, and then he’s gone. He releases Eames and walks into the living room, ridding himself of his clothes as he goes, dropping them to the ground as if he couldn’t care less. The hardwood floor is wet where he walks.

Eames takes a breath of cold, harsh air before closing the door as commanded. He turns back to Arthur, who is naked except for boxer briefs and a soft smile.

“I need a hot shower, before anything else. Come join me?”

Eames hums in agreement and Arthur smiles before walking to the bathroom.

Eames follows him, picking up the wet clothing. It’s ironic but fitting; on the job, Arthur cleans up after Eames. Here, the tables are turned.

Eames throws the clothing in the laundry basket, and starts undressing himself in bathroom. Arthur’s already in the shower, steam floating towards the ceiling. Eames can see him shake under the hot spray – he’d been cold, freezing, before.

When Eames joins him in the shower, Arthur’s cheeks are rosy, soft and healthy. He’s warm to the touch. Eames smiles as Arthur leans in, sharing the warm spray together, body to body. Wet, close, and intimate.

“Hey, you,” Eames murmurs, raking his hand through Arthur’s hair, kissing the droplets on his forehead. “It’s been a while.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “You saw me yesterday. Literally less than 24 hour ago.”

Eames knows that Arthur knows what Eames is actually talking about. The deflection is what it is, a deflection. They don’t talk about this. Eames is crossing a line.

So Eames hums and kisses him without another word. Eames doesn’t need words to enjoy this, to enjoy Arthur, for as long Arthur’s here.

The shower is enjoyable, and successful. Arthur is no longer trembling. He’s stolen a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie from Eames’ closet, and has stretched himself on the sofa, reading a book while they are waiting on take out.

They are tired. The job was a long one and had its literal bumps and bruises. Eames still has aching shoulders and a bruise on his knee. Arthur has bruised ribs, Eames is sure of that, but he represses the urge to nurse him too much. He doesn’t want to annoy him away.

Arthur is staying for at least a night. Maybe longer. There is a thunderstorm coming. The pouring rain hasn’t stopped, only gotten worse. It pounds against the roof, the windows, a continuous hum of force. It makes the world seem smaller, as if this penthouse, their sanctuary, is as far as the universe stretches.

Eames likes this idea. The whole world being just them, together. It’s a hopeless fantasy to become attached to, but Eames sees an opportunity and he takes it. Times like these, are rare.

Eames steals a kiss when he passes the sofa. He takes the take-out, Indian, and gives the poor lad who brought it an extra big tip.

“Darling? Food’s here. Will we eat it on the sofa? Or at the dining table as if we’re actual functioning adults?”

“We’re actual functioning criminals, Eames. So, couch,” Arthur replies, putting away his book but keeping his glasses on.

He’s ruffled, cosy, lovely. Eames reaches over and kisses him again, he just has to. Arthur smiles into the kiss, Eames feels his hand kneading his neck, pulling them closer together. Eames tries to be careful, but he feels it when Arthur winches.

So he pulls back and whispers in Arthur’s ear, “make room for me, love.”

Arthur pouts but obeys.

They eat in a comfortable silence, listening to the howling wind together, the drumming of the rain.

“There is a thunderstorm coming,” Arthur says eventually. “The weather will stay problematic for at least another three days.”

Eames hums. Three days. Three days is a long time, for them. “You can stay here, but you knew that already.”

Arthur is silent, for a minute, but then he puts his plate away, steals Eames’ plate and puts it aside too. He straddles Eames’ thighs –careful to avoid the bruises, Eames can tell.

“Three days,” Arthur says again, before capturing Eames’ lips in a soft but insistent kiss. “You sure?”

Eames blinks up at Arthur, takes in his face, mostly blank and slightly vulnerable. “Love, of course I am.”

It’s the last thing Eames says for a long time.

Excluding the occasional moan and Arthur’s name.

Of course.

\--

It’s the thunder that woke Eames. Not the dream he can’t recall anymore, because he doesn’t dream naturally anymore. There is no reason to dream about Arthur leaving, because he will, in three days. And that’s okay.

It’s the thunder that woke him.

Arthur is sleeping peacefully, lying on his stomach with his head pressed against Eames’ chest. Eames has his hand between Arthur’s shoulder blades, watching them rise and fall.

It’s painful, sometimes, to have what you’ve wanted. To finally have it, but not the way you wanted to. The totality of it. Arthur isn’t his, but he is, sometimes.

Eames wants all of it, but he knows that he doesn’t always gets what he wants.

Arthur wants some of it, Eames doesn’t know the extent of what he wants. Arthur needs a thunderstorm in order to stay.

Eames doesn’t believe in Gods, but if there is a way to convince Thor to place an eternal storm above his home - their home, even if Arthur doesn’t see it as such - he would at least try.

But Eames can wait, until Arthur figures it out. Figures out he can stay forever, that he _wants_ to stay forever. _If_ he wants to stay forever. Eames still isn’t quite sure.

\--

Thor doesn’t like Eames very much.

Or the weathermen are more mediocre than Eames had thought.

The next day, the sun is shining.

The storm has passed, Arthur has lost his excuse.

Arthur looks through the window and then looks back at Eames, watching him from the bed.

“Three days,” Arthur says, but it sounds like a question, hesitant and soft.

Eames smiles, his heart is pounding like the rain from yesterday. “Darling, you know you can stay as long as you want, right?”

Arthur turns back to the window, his profile framed by the bright sun light. “Oh.”

Eames hums. “Yes.”

Arthur doesn’t reply, but Eames can see he’s smiling.

He’s sure that, if he comes close enough, there will be a dimple that can be kissed. So Eames climbs out of bed, joins Arthur by the window and does exactly that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Brookebond for the quick beta!
> 
> I want to thank the whole Inception fandom for being so open and supportive. This is now my 20th work since I started only five months ago. In that time I wrote about 100k and posted from that around 52k and it's been amazing and insane and I love this fandom so much! 
> 
> Thank you all!


End file.
